Time's Redemption
by ChristianGateFan
Summary: When Lilith unexpectedly kills Dean again, Sam is devastated. Castiel offers him one chance to save his brother; a chance to fix so much more than that. But is either brother willing to pay what it will cost them? AU ending 4x18. Warning: character death.
1. Chapter 1

Yes, yes, I know I'm horrible, what with how ever other many stories I'm working on right now...but this plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone! It's a shorter one, though, just a few chapters by the end, I promise. And this one is much more serious, just so you know...So anyway, please read and review if you like this teaser! Thanks so much! :)

Timing: Alternate ending to 4x18, "The Monter at the End of This Book," so spoilers up to and including that episode.

Genre: Angst, Drama, Family

"Time's Redemption"

Lilith wore a dimly smug expression as Sam slowly leaned over her, and that sealed the decision. At the last moment he grabbed for the knife on the nightstand, and he thought he had her. Unfortunately, it seemed that even without her powers to use against him, she was faster. Her hand snapped up to catch his wrist and flip him over, turn the tables. Suddenly_ she_ had the knife, and seemed intent on using it.

_That_ was when the door burst open, and Dean rushed in with—

"I am the prophet, Chuck!"

The writer?

Lilith glared back at them, springing off the bed. "You've _got_ to be joking." Sam stayed where he was against the headboard, just as confused as she was.

"Oh, this is no joke," Dean smirked, clapping a hand on Chuck's shoulder. "You see, Chuck here has got an archangel on his shoulder."

The room began to vibrate, and white light poured in through the window. Lilith glanced around quickly, unsure of what was happening. Sam still wasn't so certain himself.

"You got about ten seconds before this room is fulla wrath, and you're a piece of charcoal! You sure you wanna tangle with that?"

Sam pushed up against the wall, bracing himself as the room shook and watching Lilith warily. She snapped around to glower at him, and the look sent shivers down his spine. Then she spun back on Dean and Chuck.

For Sam it was all slow motion from there. Lilith flicked a wrist in his brother's direction, and Dean's head snapped to the side so sharply he didn't need to hear the sickening crack that came with it.

"NO!" He heard himself scream, saw Dean fall. Chuck froze, wide-eyed, and Lilith escaped. In seconds she was out of the body she'd stolen, and out the window. The room stopped shaking and the light faded as the dental hygienist dropped to the floor, unconscious.

"Dean! DEAN!" Sam was already scrambling off the bed, and he was across the room almost before he knew he'd moved. He dropped to the floor at his brother's side, pulling Dean up into his arms. "Nonononono…" he moaned. Dean's head hung too loosely, and his eyes were wide…empty. Dead. Again.

Sam pulled Dean's head against his chest, cradling his brother's limp body in his arms. Cold déjà vu gripped his chest like a vice, and suddenly, as the tears came, it was too hard to breathe.

"Dean no," he gasped. "No!"

"Oh no oh no oh no," Chuck mumbled frantically. "This wasn't supposed to happen! He was supposed to stop it all…"

Sam looked up quickly, only then remembering that other man was there. He could have asked about that last comment, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered now. "Get out of here."

Chuck blinked. "What?"

"Just go!" He nodded toward the woman on the floor. "Take her and leave!"

"B-but—"

"Now, Chuck!"

He stumbled back, nodding quickly. "O-okay, okay..." A moment later he'd dragged the woman to the door. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…" he muttered as he went. Sam ignored him, waiting for the door to shut.

It wasn't until then that he let himself bury his face in Dean's shoulder and cry.

"I don't understand," he sobbed. "That _wasn't_ supposed to happen…"

"No. It should not have happened."

Sam looked up again. His vision was clouded with the tears that streaked his face now, but there was no mistaking the figure in front of him.

It was Castiel.

"What are you doing here?" He swiped at his eyes, and when he could see the angel more clearly, he frowned. Cas looked…distraught.

"This was not supposed to happen," Castiel repeated, as if he couldn't understand it either.

"Then fix it!" Sam demanded, suddenly angry. He held Dean tighter. "Bring him back again!"

Castiel looked at him apologetically. "It took four of your months to reach him last time. This time they would be ready. I do not know that we _could_ pull him out again."

The realization hit him like a slap in the face.

Dean was in hell again.

"No…No, there has to be a way. We can't just leave him there! We have to do _something_!"

"Yes…we must do _something_." The angel shook his head slowly. "As I said…I do not understand this. Dean Winchester was to be the only man who could stop all of this, somehow."

"What?" Sam didn't understand. What was he talking about?

"I cannot explain now," Castiel answered, as if he'd heard the thought.

Sam glowered at him, and carefully got to his feet. He hefted Dean up with him, and carried him back to the other bed. Gently he laid his brother's body there, and with a trembling hand closed Dean's eyes. With a sob he dropped to his knees again, beside the bed.

"Please…you have to do something," he choked. Not once since he had actually met an angel for the first time had he ever imagined begging one for anything. But this…he couldn't handle this. He couldn't lose Dean again—not after he'd already gotten him back once.

For a long moment there was silence, and then a soft sigh.

"Remain here. I will return…I must seek guidance."

When Sam glanced back, Castiel was gone.

He didn't know how long he cried—no less than last time—and this time the knowledge that every moment was hours for Dean in hell…it didn't make it any easier to stop.

"I should have listened to you," he sobbed. "We should have run—prophecy or no damn prophecy. I thought I really could stop it all now. I thought I could kill her…" A fist shot out and slammed into the nightstand. "I couldn't do anything! It was all for nothing."

His shoulders shook, and he pulled his hand back to find Dean's arm and hold onto it. "I'm sorry…"

Everything faded out in the grief, and the helplessness…and Sam wasn't really aware of much until he heard the sharp knock on the door. For a moment he hoped Castiel had returned, but then he remembered that an angel wouldn't knock on the door.

There was no one else he wanted to talk to right now, so he ignored it.

"Sam! Come on, damnit, open up."

It was only the anger that made him get up and fling open the door. "Go away, Ruby."

The demon crossed her arms. "What? I got wind of some celestial commotion around here. What's going on? Where's Dean?"

"Dean is dead," he snapped.

Her arms dropped. "What?"

"He's dead. Lilith killed him.

"Lilith was here?!" Ignoring his protests, Ruby pushed past him into the room. She only went far enough to see Dean's body on the bed before she stopped and turned. "You tried to kill her, didn't you?"

"Of course I did! You would have done the same."

"No,_ I_ would have waited until I knew I was strong enough!"

"I thought I was!"

"I _told_ you that it would take more time!" She scowled and pointed to the bed. "You acted before you were ready, and she retaliated. What else did you expect her to do! I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this is no one's fault but your own, Sam."

His jaw clenched. "I don't need you to tell me that!" Suddenly everything seemed too bright, too loud, too much…Sam groaned and dropped to all fours, pulling in air sharply. In a moment Ruby was behind him, leaning down close, a hand running over his shoulders.

"Sam, I'm sorry. I am. But we've got to keep going. We _can_ take Lilith down. Maybe you're not strong enough now, but you will be…with my help…"

Chuck's words flashed through his mind. _I mean, sucking blood, man? You gotta know that's wrong._

The thing was, he knew Dean would have said exactly the same thing.

Sam pushed her away and staggered to his feet. "How can you even think about that right now!"

Ruby straightened and crossed her arms again. "Because we still have a war to fight. Lilith's still out there, apparently, and she has to be stopped. If it's just us now, we're going to have to crack down. We've got work to do."

She began rolling up her sleeve, and even though he could feel the part of himself that wanted it…he shook his head slowly. "No…not like that."

She stopped and raised her eyebrows at him. "What else is there? You have to be able to kill her eventually."

Sam just kept shaking his head. He backed up toward the other side of the room, toward Dean. "No, just…not right now. I can't. Not right now."

_Dean wanted me to stop anything that had to do with my powers. I wouldn't listen to him when he was here. Maybe I really _should_ have listened to him. Maybe if I had listened he would still be alive. _

The cold truth cut in sharp, and he heard himself gasp in a painful breath.

Ruby watched him for a moment. She watched as he backed up into the nightstand and sank to the floor again, head in his hands. "Please just go," he said weakly. He felt the fresh wave of tears as he pulled his knees up to his chest, and Ruby's expression softened.

"Fine," she sighed, and hesitated a moment. "I'm sorry," she repeated. Then she was gone.

Crying silently, Sam pulled himself up on the edge of the bed and sat there, staring down at Dean's still form. More uncountable time passed, until a breeze that shouldn't have reached him in a motel room made him look up.

Castiel had returned.

Sam levered himself back to his feet, daring to hope. "Well?"

The angel almost winced—almost—before he answered. "I can promise nothing, but, if you are willing…there may be a way to save your bother. There may be a way to do much more than that."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews! I hope to continue to hear from ya'll. :) Anyway, here's chapter two...have a great weekend!

Chapter 2

"If I'm willing? Why the hell wouldn't I be? What is it? Let's do it."

Castiel held up a hand. "Give me a moment to explain. It is quite…complicated."

Sam echoed the angel again. "Complicated?"

"Yes," Cas nodded. "Do you remember when I took Dean back in time?"

"Yeah…but he said he couldn't change anything from there. He tried. It all happened anyway."

"That is true, but that is because it was not God's will for those events to be changed. It was too long ago. It would have changed _everything_ if your mother had not made her deal. Your family would have become something else. The world you know would not exist as it does now."

Sam blinked. "Right…so why bring it up at all?"

Castiel didn't answer for a moment. "Since then…since I was given the order to bring your brother there…I have often wondered if perhaps there were another point in time—something much more recent--that could be changed to put the odds in our favor now. I believe I know now what that point in time is."

"You came up with that on your own?"

Castiel nodded. "It was an…errant thought, but…I inquired, when I went now to seek counsel. I was not given the order to look into it, but neither was I denied the request. I believe we must try."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Well…Dean would be proud of you, thinking on your own like that," he said quietly.

The angel just looked at him.

"Okay, so…" He glanced back at Dean anxiously. "What is it? What do you think we can do?"

This time Cas really did seem reluctant to answer. "Your brother's deal," he said finally. "I believe if that can be prevented, not only will this, his death here, never happen, but Lilith can be stopped."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. Okay, Lilith holds the contract, but what did Deal's deal ever have to do with Lilith trying to let Lucifer loose?"

"Everything…because your brother has everything to do with the seals."

"What?"

Castiel explained. He explained the first seal. He explained what the angels knew of Azazel's original plot—the reason the yellow-eyed demon had wanted one of the Winchesters in hell. John had escaped, but Dean had not…and how Dean had been the one to unwittingly break it.

And how Dean, as the one who had broken the first seal, was supposedly the only one who could stop the apocalypse from coming.

It all made so much sense that Sam wondered why they had never seen any of it before, figured any of it out. But how could they have known about the seal?

Sam sank back to the edge of the bed, choking back tears. "Oh god…" His hand closed over his brother's arm again. "Dean knew, didn't he?"

"Alastair told him," Cas confirmed.

"That's why he was so upset…after all of that," Sam whispered. "I was so worried about him, but I had no idea…"

He looked up quickly. "Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't_ someone_ tell me?"

"You did not need to know then. Now you _must_ know, to understand what we must do."

"Understand..." His forehead creased as he did. "If Dean had never made that deal, he wouldn't have gone to hell. The seal never would have been broken, and Lilith wouldn't be able to release Lucifer."

Castiel nodded, and Sam stared at him. "But if he hadn't made that deal…"

Another nod, slower this time.

Sam looked away. "But…what's two more days back? Couldn't we stop Jake from killing me in the first place?"

Cas hesitated, gave him that apologetic look again. "If you had not been killed, Jake would not have 'won' the game Azazel forced all of you into. He would not have been brought to the devil's gate then, and the gate would not have been opened."

"Wouldn't that be a good thing?"

"In theory, yes, but unfortunately there is no avoiding this war in its entirety. It must happen, and we must win." Castiel sighed a little. "I am certain, at least, that we would be stopped if we attempted to stop the gate from being opened. Everything else must remain the same. If we can hope to be allowed through to attempt anything at all, we can only stop the deal. That would change enough."

Sam swallowed hard and stared at the floor. "It would change enough all right."

There was silence for a long moment.

"I guess that would just be perfect for you guys, wouldn't it? You get Dean back, and you get me out of the way. Maybe if he'd never broken the seal he wouldn't be needed in the same capacity as he might be now, but I'm sure you all like him a lot better than you like the kid with the demon blood," he spat finally. He looked up again defiantly, and was caught off guard to see Castiel looking…surprised.

"That is not it at all. Please forget anything Uriel ever told you. He was not on our side. I apologize for what he may have led you to believe…We do not wish to see you dead, by any means."

"But you don't want me using my powers."

"Because we fear for your soul, Sam," Cas snapped.

Sam stared at him. "What?"

The angel sighed. "By allowing yourself to learn to use and control these abilities given by evil, you risk…so much. I do not have to ask to know that your brother has always feared that. _That_ is what the Lord fears for you—not that you will end up on the wrong side. He does not wish for _you_ to end up in hell, and neither would I. Dean certainly would not."

"I thought I didn't have a choice. I thought I would have to stop her," Sam answered softly.

Castiel shook his head slowly. "If the use of such powers were the only way to defeat her, this war would have been lost before it began. Can you not see that?"

Sam swallowed and closed his eyes. His head dropped into his hands, whirling with too much new information for it all to process efficiently at once. "I don't know…"

What if Castiel was right, and Chuck's assumption's were wrong? What if it _wasn't_ all up to him? What if, beyond anything he'd ever though possible…Dean was the important one in this?

And Dean was his brother. He couldn't do nothing.

"You're sure it's the only thing that would work?" he asked weakly.

He could imagine Castiel nodding solemnly when he answered. "It is the only thing we can be certain of—that would change only the right things."

"So…in a nutshell, this timeline is supposedly screwed without Dean, and because there's no way to just bring him back here, you want to change the timeline itself?"

"Only from two years ago, but yes."

Sam couldn't help smirking a little when he finally looked up again. "You know that's crazy, right?"

Castiel just looked at him. "I only know what has to be done if this world is to be saved."

He pulled himself back to his feet again, crossing his arms tightly. "How would that work?"

"I cannot interact directly with the past, but I could bring you there, as I did your brother. However, this will be harder than it was with Dean. Lilith's ranks will know by now that Dean Winchester has been slain. They will be watching to make certain that he remains dead, and I am sure there are other angels such as Uriel was—others on Lilith's side—who would also try to stop us. I may only be able to pull you through as a spirit."

"And then it would be up to me to stop it?"

Cas nodded once.

Sam turned away, pulling his fingers anxiously through his hair. "Do I have to answer now?" he asked tightly.

"No. The past will remain where it is," the angel answered gently.

When Sam turned around, he was gone again.

Sam groaned and dropped onto the edge of his bed this time, staring across the short space at his brother's still body.

"Dean, what am I supposed to do?" he pleaded. "Was everything you did for me all for nothing, too?" A sob jerked from his throat. "But I can't just—god Dean, I can't leave you in hell."

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to loose the last twenty-one months of his life. He knew Dean wouldn't want any of that, either.

But an extra year or two of life weren't worth letting Dean suffer for it forever. It was why they'd fought so hard to keep him out of hell in the first place. Maybe to Dean it had seemed like it when he made the deal…but to Sam, his whole lifetime had never been worth letting Dean go to hell.

"So what, then? I do this and you tear me a new one for it whenever you get to heaven or whatever it is with the rest of us? Or would you even know?" _Would_ he know? Would _either_ of them ever know anything had been changed once it had been done?

"Probably not," he muttered, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

He wasn't sure how much longer he sat there, but dim light was filtering in through the blinds when he pulled out his phone.

"_Sam_?" The voice on the other end of the phone actually seemed anxious.

"You can come back," he answered shortly. Sam snapped the phone shut and stared at it, wondering if he should call Bobby now that he would be awake.

No…he couldn't call Bobby. Telling Bobby Dean was dead would make it true.

Sam got up uncertainly, paced, started to look for food and then wondered why the hell he would want any now. He ended up hunched over at the table, nauseous and miserable. This time he didn't get up when he heard the knock on the door.

"Come in…"

He heard the door open, felt Ruby's hands on his shoulders. "Do you want it now? Lilith can't be that far, even if she's already taken a new host. We could track her down…"

Sam shook his head, standing and turning to face her. "I wish that would work. I wish we could end it right now—but we can't. You're right; I'm not strong enough. I don't know if I'll ever be strong enough." He swallowed and glanced back at his brother's body. "Even if we could, it wouldn't bring Dean back."

"Nothing can; not this time."

"Castiel thinks otherwise."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're listening to him?"

Sam spread his arms in a shrug. "Cas told me the truth; you never did."

"What?"

"You had to have known, Ruby—about the seals. About Dean."

She huffed. "You didn't need to know that."

"That's what he said! Have you all been so afraid to trust me? Am I really that dangerous? So close to going dark side or something?" he shouted.

"Depends on your definition of 'dark side.'"

Sam scowled at her. "You know what? Shut up. Just shut up. I don't know what your deal is, and I won't condemn you, but that doesn't mean I have to do things_ your_ way anymore, either."

"Sam, what are you talking about?"

"Castiel thinks that if we stop Dean from making the deal with the crossroads demon and stop him from going to hell, stop the first seal from being broken…that'll it'll fix enough that Lilith can be defeated, before she even gets started."

Ruby stared at him. "But wouldn't that mean leaving you dead?"

He flinched. "Yes."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Yes. No. God, I don't know…" Sam shifted uncomfortably and turned away. He needed something to do, so he crossed the room and began packing his things. Dean's were already in his bag by the door, though he'd never left, and suddenly is seemed like maybe he should clean up his own things, too.

Ruby was standing over him in an instant. "Sam, you can't do that."

"Why not? It's my life."

"A life I've _saved_ half a dozen times! Don't I get some say in this?"

Sam dropped his bag. "No, you don't."

"Sam, you have a responsibility—"

"To what? To use my powers? To stop Lilith? According to Cas, none of that was ever up to me."

"And you're going to believe him over _me_?"

"I don't know _what_ to believe! All I know is that I can't leave Dean in hell. I have to do something."

Ruby took a deep breath. "Listen, Sam. I know you miss him. I know you missed him last time, but it's not worth throwing your life away."

Sam straightened. "Yes it is," he answered immediately, suddenly believing it himself. If he didn't know which side to believe, he knew that—he knew Dean was worth the lost time on Earth. He turned away from Ruby, glancing up and nowhere.

"Castiel? Where are you? I know you're still around here somewhere…"

The breeze came again, and he spun to see the angel standing a few feet behind the demon, with Ruby glaring vehemently at him already.

"You have made your decision?"

Sam's jaw set. "I'll do it."

"Sam, no."

He ignored her. "If I do this, it means I'll have died two years ago—before I was mixed up in all of this, with my powers."

"Yes."

"So…the risk is gone? Anything I might have done since then…that may have put my soul in danger…"

"Would not have happened. Even if that were not true, your doing this would redeem you of anything you had done. You will be with your parents," Castiel answered, knowing where he was going before he got there.

Sam nodded once. "Then let's go."

Cas came to his side, and Ruby was forced to step away for distaste of being near the angel. "Sam, please don't do this. What about everything we've accomplished?"

"Have we really accomplished anything?" he asked wearily.

"The people you've saved exorcizing demons, at the very least!"

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Ruby. I couldn't save Dean last time, and I'm not letting him down this time. I have to save my brother." Sam broke from the angel and the demon and knelt at Dean's bedside for a moment. Hesitantly, he reached up push his fingers gently through his brother's short hair, and let his hand rest on Dean's cheek.

"I'm coming," he whispered. "I'm sorry there's no other way…"

The firm hand on his shoulder told him Castiel was ready, and he stood.

"What about everything I've done for you!" Ruby protested.

Sam glanced back at her. "If it's true that part of why you ever helped us in the first place was because you remember what it means to be human…then I'm sure you'll do some of it again, even if I'm not there. You helped keep Dean alive the first time around; I think you'll do it again. He may try to send you back to hell the first few times, but you're stubborn."

"This is a mistake…"

"If it'll save Dean, it's not a mistake." He looked to Cas. "Let's go."

"Sam—!"

He didn't hear her if she said anything else. Castiel brought a hand to his forehead, and everything went white.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, like I said over in the chapter of DLG I posted yesterday, I'm heading to the fam's house tomorrow for two or three days, so I might not get to write until I get back. So here's another chapter. :) Please let me know what ya'll think, so I'll be hyped up to get the next chapter for you as soon as I'm back! ;) Thanks ya'll.

Chapter 3

When the light faded away, he heard the scream. A faint memory told him exactly where and when he was before he could see it, and then he and Castiel were standing in an alley of the ghost town he'd never wanted to see again.

"NOO!"

It was Dean's scream he'd heard, and when Sam spun he saw himself across the road, falling. He saw Jake yanking the knife out of his back, Bobby running after him as he fled…and Dean, running straight to his fallen brother and going to his knees to catch him.

He'd surged forward before he knew he was moving, but Castiel swept in from of him to throw out his arm like a bar across Sam's chest.

"We can do nothing. It is too late."

Sam stopped, but still he stared in horror. He could see Dean's eyes widen from here when he saw the blood on his hand from the wound in his younger brother's back.

"God, I remember how much that hurt," he whispered. "Not right then, but when Jake stabbed me. I don't really remember anything after he stabbed me except Dean screaming and running at me…"

He trailed off and turned back to Castiel as something occurred to him. "I thought you said we couldn't come back all the way to this day."

"No, I said that I did not believe we would be allowed to change what happened here today, or the opening of the devils gate. However…" The angel wouldn't look directly at him. "I attempted to bring us back before your death anyway."

Sam blinked at him. "You did?"

"As I said, I do not wish to see you give up your life if it could be prevented," Cas said quickly. "At least because your brother loves you as much as he does." He sighed. "Unfortunately, I was correct in the beginning. We cannot change it."

"Oh…well…thanks for trying," Sam answered quietly.

"Sam? Sam. Sam? Sammy!"

Far behind him, across the wide dirt road, he could still hear Dean. Dean, who rarely lost his cool to anything but anger, who sounded more panicked now than Sam had ever expected to hear. He tried to shut it out, to tell himself that he couldn't change it, but his brother's desperate pleas weren't falling on deaf ears.

He looked again, just as Dean pulled his little brother into his arms.

"Are we physical here? Can anyone see us?" he asked tightly, around the lump in his throat.

"No…" Castiel answered from behind him. "I'm afraid I was right about that as well. But you do have experience…"

"Yeah, from the whole thing several weeks ago with the reapers." And Pamela's death. Maybe that would change, too, if he did this. "But I only know how to move things and make myself solid to other spirits. I don't know how to make myself visible to people…"

"You have two days to reach him in some way."

"I know," he said, and looked to the angel again. "I'll just...I'll have to figure it out."

Cas nodded slowly. "I cannot stay here. It would further disrupt the time flow were I to remain. You will be on your own from now."

"Thanks, I guess," he gulped.

Castiel looked at him for a long moment. "I am sorry that I cannot do more."

"SAM!"

Dean's tortured cry brought his attention away from the angel, and Sam twisted in time to see his older brother push his face into his younger self's hair and sob.

"Dean…" he choked quietly. He glanced back once, but Cas was gone again.

Sam all but stumbled out of the alley, and he knew he was crying. Then again, it didn't matter, did it? Dean couldn't see or hear him anyway. No one could. But he had to make them—make Dean hear him. It was why he was here.

But…how could he leave Dean like that? Now that he was here, Sam didn't know how he could do it. How could he let this be the end? The last real memory he would leave Dean of himself would be his complaints about Dean's extra onions.

It wasn't long before Dean's shout brought Bobby back from the woods, and Sam already knew that Jake had gotten away. Dean would probably be the one to shoot him this time, later, in the cemetery where the gate was…if he managed to change anything.

Bobby jogged quickly back to Dean, a stricken expression on his face, and Dean finally noticed him and called out frantically with a sudden, irrationally spark of hope in his eyes.

"Bobby! God, Bobby, help! We have to do something; you have to do something. Sam—"

Bobby went quickly to his knees beside them, checking the wound for a moment before looking for a pulse. Sam hung back, not sure why he suddenly felt the need to be silent even though they couldn't hear him. He felt like he was intruding on something.

Bobby froze for a long moment, once he'd steadied his hand against Sam's younger self's neck. Then his shoulders dropped, and his jaw worked as his eyes misted over. "Dean…he's gone…"

"No. Nonono, you have to be able to do something. You know more than I do. What can we do? There has to be—he's not gone!"

Dean laid Sam's body out in panicked, jerky movements, acting like he wanted to try to revive him, but Bobby held him back. "That's no use, son."

"We have to try!" Dean shouted angrily, ignoring the tears that were the first to escape. He fought Bobby to get back to Sam's body, but Bobby fought harder to keep him from it.

"Maybe you could bring him back for a few seconds, but what good would that be! His spinal cord is severed, Dean. He's not coming back." Bobby's voice broke, and he sucked in a sharp breath. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry…"

Dean gave a dry sob and wilted in Bobby's grip, holding on silently and pulling in heavy breaths of his own. "No. Nooo…." he moaned. After a moment he pushed Bobby's arms away and pulled Sam's body back up into his.

"I'll be back," Bobby said quietly. "I'll…go inside and find somewhere to put him for now."

Dean nodded silently against Sam's shoulder, and it wasn't until Bobby was gone that the tears really, really fell—for either brother.

Oh god.

Sam had never seen Dean cry. He'd seen tears, even seen them trailing down his brother's cheeks, seen a few sobs.

But he had never seen Dean _cry_.

He was crying now, sobbing full-throated into Sam's hair—the lifeless Sam Winchester he held in his arms. Sam himself still stood several yards back toward the alley, fists clenched at his sides, crying quietly and alone.

"Dean, I'm sorry," he wept softly. "God, if I could keep you from hurting like this…" Somehow it hurt more to see Dean in pain than it ever hurt to feel any pain he could feel on his own.

And he had never seen his brother so broken—not even when Dean had told him what had happened in hell.

Dean was still crying, though more quietly, when Bobby returned, but by the time they had carried the body inside one of the abandoned houses to lay him on the old bed Sam remembered waking up on, Dean seemed numb. He silently, meticulously straightened Sam's legs out on the old tattered mattress, and gently laid his arms over his stomach as if tucking his little brother into bed for the night like he hadn't done since Sam was five.

Then Dean sank to the edge of the mattress, his elbows resting on his knees as his head dropped into his hands. For the longest time he only sat there, unmoving, pulling in shuddering breaths. Bobby hovered in the front room, not bothering him.

Sam circled in front of his brother, finally sinking to the floor and settling against the wall by the open doorway to the front room.

"Damnit, Dean, we've been hunting long enough. Can't you…tell I'm here? Or something?" Maybe if Dean wasn't so upset, he would.

But there was no way to fix that. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. He didn't know the first thing about making himself visible—even audible. Sam rammed an elbow back into the wall in frustration.

Dean looked up.

"Dean?" Bobby called from up front.

"Just a creak in the walls," he mumbled in reply, and let his head drop again.

Sam stood. "You heard that?"

But of course Dean didn't answer.

"Great," Sam sighed. Maybe, though, that was a good sign. Last time he'd always had to focus, to move anything. If he was hitting physical things without really thinking about it, maybe it wouldn't be so hard to figure out how to talk to his brother.

Was this how every ghost felt in their infancy? Just normal people wanting to reconnect with the world they'd been tossed out of?

Not that _he _was normal, but…never mind.

He needed to get out of this room. It was too unnerving, staring at his own body, knowing this was all too real. He'd been dead…for two days. Strange how he'd never really thought about it before. Then again, he hadn't wanted too—thinking about it had always led to the crushing guilt he held over the deal Dean had made to bring him back.

"I'll be back," he said quietly. Sam crept out past Bobby, though the creeping wasn't necessary, and made his way upstairs. He could practice alone up here—reacquaint himself with the skills he already had, and focus on developing the ones he needed. He really wished he had more than two days.

There was another old bed up here, and he tried until sitting down on it actually made a depression in the mattress and he could hear the squeaks. He bounced up and down and few times, gauging the sound to be sure it couldn't be heard downstairs, and didn't stop until he didn't have to think about it anymore.

When he was sure he could, he moved the things on the dresser around.

It was easy.

Encouraged, Sam glanced up at the cracked, dusty mirror that sat on top, and squinted at it. There was no one staring back, of course, but then again there was almost too much dust and grime to reflect anything at all.

He squinted harder, lifted his hand to the glass. It took a few tries, but finally he managed to wipe the mirror clean.

It was a start.

Sam sighed heavily and stared out the door of the bedroom, toward the stairs that led down to his brother. Doubt settled in his gut again, and he wondered how he could feel nauseated when he had no body to upset. Maybe it was a sensation memory thing.

He didn't even know what he doubted. Whether or not he could do this? Whether or not he could pull it off if he could? Whether or not he _should _do this?

No. Not that one. He had to do this. It was the only way to keep Dean alive—making it easier to defeat Lilith was only a perk.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Then he turned back to the mirror, and told himself he would stand there until he saw his reflection in it.

* * *

Sam leaned against the doorframe, watching Dean watch his body. His brother sat slumped in a chair he'd moved just inside the room two days ago. Dean hadn't moved from that chair much since then, either. He hadn't changed clothes, hadn't eaten much of whatever Bobby brought, and hadn't really listened to anything Bobby said whether they were words of comfort or otherwise.

All he'd done was sit there, drinking sometimes, sliding deeper and deeper into a dark, dark hole and taking Sam's heart with him.

"I don't know what else to do, Dean," he swallowed. "I've tried everything. I could flip the damn chair out from under you if I wanted to, but I can't make you see me."

He'd seen himself in the mirror a several times, for a few seconds at a time. That had been yesterday. He'd done it again since, but when he'd tried near Dean, it hadn't worked. He tried as hard as he could—cleared his mind and focused as hard as he could. He'd tried more than once.

It hadn't worked yet.

"You're thinking about it by now, aren't you? Considering it. You _can't_…" he sobbed. "You never should have done it in the first place. I told you that from the beginning, and look how it screwed everything up."

He was running out of time. Dean would make the deal tonight if he couldn't stop it. The longer he was here, the longer he knew it was the right thing to do. If it hurt this much just seeing Dean like this…Sam couldn't bear the thought of his brother going to hell, being tortured like that. Not again. Not the first time.

He had to stop it.

But to do it, Dean had to see him. Just hearing him wouldn't do. That would scare him more than anything, not make him listen. Dean had to see him, give him time to explain and understand what was going on.

How could he do all of that in the next few hours, when he hadn't made any progress since yesterday?

Sam stepped just outside the door and sank against the wall of the front room, not bothering to fight the sobs building in his chest or move anywhere else to let them loose. Bobby was out to get more food Dean probably wouldn't eat, and unfortunately his brother couldn't hear him.

It was hopeless, wasn't it? Just like it had been for Dean, back in 1973. He'd been there, seen everything, and a few things had changed because he'd been there, but the end result had been the same. He hadn't been able to make a difference.

Maybe Castiel was wrong about this, and _he_ couldn't change anything _here_ either.

His head dropped back against the wall, and Sam let himself cry again for the first time since the day he'd arrived.

It was all useless, just like everything else. He wouldn't be able to do anything, and this would be the last time he would see Dean alive. Dean would still make the deal, and in twenty-one months he would still be dead again in their motel room.

Dean would still be in hell again.

Sam wrapped his arms around his legs and drew his knees up tight to keep from shaking so hard as the sobs wracked his chest, wondering at the same time why he cared if they did. He could cry as much as he wanted, and Dean would never—

"Sammy?"

The voice was small and scared and shaky and confused…and it was Dean's.


	4. Chapter 4

Here ya go! :) Sorry I was gone for a few days; family stuff. Anyway, hope ya'll are still out there! I can't wait to hear from you! Thanks again! :)

Disclaimer: Forgot one before, so....yeah most of Dean and Bobby's dialougue and such from that part is, of course, from "All Hell Breaks Loose Part 2" and some of the stuff from the last chapter was from Part 1, and oh yeah the stuff at the very beginning of the story in the first chapter is from "The Monster at the End of This Book" and then there's the fact that the characters aren't mins, bla bla bla. Just having fun in here. LOL

Chapter 4

Sam's eyes snapped open, and his head jerked to the left to see Dean standing stock still in the doorway to the other room, staring down at him as if seeing a ghost—which, apparently, he was…thank god.

"Dean?" he whispered. "You…you can see me? You can hear me?"

Dean's heard jerked down just a little, it what must have been meant as a nod. "W-wh…"

Sam clambered to his feet, scrubbing at his eyes. "I-it's okay. It's okay. It's me…really."

"But you—you're…" He glanced back through the door to where Sam's body lay. "But spirits always manifest in the clothes they died in," he protested weakly. "You're not real. I'm just—I'm losing it." He paced away from the door, clamping his hands to the sides of his head. "God, I'm finally losing it."

"No, Dean. No, you're not crazy. I _am_ a spirit, a ghost, whatever, but that's just…just because it was the only way to get here."

Dean turned to look at him again, but he was backing up slowly. "Get here from _where_?" He was backing toward his bag on the table—the one with the guns.

"Dean, take it easy! Let me explain."

"Explain what?" he asked shakily. "What's there to explain? You're dead."

Sam heaved a sigh. "I know. I am now, but…you did something. I'm from_…" I'm from the future_. Oh yeah, brilliant way to put it. He refused to go there. "This was almost two years ago for me," he said instead.

Dean stared at him. "What?"

"Think about it. I'm not wearing the same clothes. Look at my hair; it's a little different too. How else could you explain that?"

"Like I said: I'm losing it." He glanced through the nearby open door again. "No surprise there," he muttered miserably.

Sam took a step forward, and Dean took another step back. He sighed. "You're not losing it," he repeated.

"Uh huh." Dean grabbed an untouched water bottle from the table and threw it at him. It went right through his chest. "See? You're not there."

He crossed the room before his brother could react, and swiped an immaterial hand through Dean's head. "Not physically, no." Then he purposefully bumped the table, and caught the sawed-off rifle that fell from it—careful to only touch the end, far enough from where the rock-salt shells rested inside, just in case. "But I can still do that." He tossed the gun to his brother, who had jumped away.

Dean caught the gun and stared at it. "Holy—" He looked up again, wide-eyed.

"Could a figment of your imagination do that?"

"You're real…"

Sam nodded once. "Yeah."

He blinked a few times and looked away for a long moment. Sam waited patiently, and when Dean looked up once more his eyes were damp. "Sammy…"

"Yeah," he swallowed.

Dean looked like he would drop the rifle, but he made it back to the table and set it down, staring up at his brother. When he was close enough, Sam reached out tentatively…and rested a hand on his brother's shoulder.

Dean reacted to the unexpected touch immediately, quickly pulling Sam into a fierce embrace that he barely managed to keep himself solid enough to hold.

"Sammy! Oh god, Sam…" Dean choked.

Sam heard himself sob, and for a moment the physical contact was strong and solid and warm—before he lost it.

Dean tripped through him and came out behind, and they both spun in surprise to stare at each other. Uncomfortable silence fell at first.

"Sorry," Sam winced. "I'm still working on…that whole thing. For a while I wasn't even sure I'd ever get you to see me…"

"R-right," Dean stammered. "Right." He glanced toward the door again; the one that led to the bedroom where Sam's body lay. "So…how are you here, anyway? I don't understand how you can—if you're…not _that _Sam…"

"I can't explain that…"

"Why then? _Why _are you here?"

Sam grimaced again and dropped his head uneasily. He felt his throat clogging again and saw his vision blurring with unshed tears. A moment ago he'd held his brother again. Now…

Now he had to give him up.

"Sam?" a desperate voice questioned. "Why?"

He lifted his head with difficulty, swallowing hard more than once before he could force the words from his throat. There was no delaying this.

"Dean…you have to let me go."

"What? What are you talking about? I thought you said you were, you know, from the future or something. God, that sounds stupid…"

"It's the truth; that's why you have to trust me."

Dean looked at him strangely. "But if you're from the future, then—"

"Dean, that's the problem. I…I can't have a future—not on Earth," he sighed quietly.

"Why the hell not!" Dean shook his head furiously. "Sam, if either of us deserves a damn future, it's you. I…listen, I-I have an idea, I think. You're gonna be fine—"

Sam glared, felt the old anger flare up. "Yeah, because you're going to make a deal with a crossroads demon. You'll to sell your soul."

Dean stopped, scowled. "How did you…?"

"Future, Dean," he answered, stabbing a finger into his own chest. "I was there, remember? I'm the one who had to watch you die!"

Now Dean only looked confused. "But…the deals are all ten years."

Sam shook his head now. "Not yours. We've caused too much trouble already, even by this time, here. She probably didn't want to give you anything. You only got a year in my future."

Dean seemed a little taken aback by that, but after a moment his expression hardened. "Well…it's my soul. That's better than nothing. If it brings you back, why shouldn't I do it?"

Sam stared at him incredulously. "Why? _Why_? You go to _hell_!"

"What if I don't care! Hell, dad's already there; at least I'll have company."

"You'll care once you're there. You'll care once you figure out you _are_ alone down there."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I can't tell you." He wanted to. He wanted to tell Dean that Dad was safe—or would be. But would that be giving away too much?

Dean snorted. "Oh really? You know, maybe I am just going crazy. A figment of my imagination wouldn't know any more than I do, and you sure don't seem to know a hell of a lot!"

"Well excuse me for sounding like the geek here, but there _is_ a time-space continuum to consider."

"Oh my god I can _not_ believe you just went there right now…" Dean spun away, running a hand through his hair.

Sam let out a breath. "Dean…" He trailed off at the sound of a vehicle outside. "Bobby's back."

"Thanks; I'm not deaf."

"I'll be back."

"What?"

Then Dean was looking around, searching for the brother that had been standing in front of him seconds before.

Sam was still there, right where he'd been, really. He'd only made himself invisible again. He headed for the back of the room when he saw Bobby making his way toward the house.

Bobby swung in the door a moment later, carrying a bucket of chicken. "Dean?" he stopped suddenly and blinked, obviously not expecting to see Dean in the front room. "Oh. Hey." He held up the chicken. "I brought you this back."

"No thanks; I'm fine," Dean answered, still looking a little bewildered.

"You should eat something," Bobby said, setting the bucket on the table.

"I said I'm fine," Dean insisted evasively. He stepped back into the other room for a moment, and stared sullenly for a moment at Sam's body before picking up the beer he'd left by his chair. Both Sam and Bobby watched him take a deep swig as he paced back into the front room, and Sam grimaced involuntarily when Bobby spoke next.

"Dean…I hate to bring this up. I really do. But don't you think maybe it's time…we bury Sam?" He didn't look any happier about it than Dean did when he looked up at the older man.

"No," Dean practically growled. He sat down at the table slowly, and glanced around again. Sam knew what—who—he was looking for, but he wasn't going to find it. It was risky enough revealing himself to one person from the past…trying to change things like this. He couldn't let Bobby see him as well.

Though that hurt, too.

Bobby shrugged miserably. "Well we could…maybe…"

"What?" Dean asked. "Torch his corpse?" He looked around one more time. "Not yet." Still, he finally seemed convinced that Sam wasn't going to appear, and slumped forward over the edge of the table.

Bobby sighed and rested his hands on the rough surface between them, looking into Dean's hard eyes. "I want you to come with me."

"I'm not goin' anywhere."

"Dean, please—"

Dean winced a little. "Would you cut me some slack?"

"I just don't think you should be alone, that's all."

Sam flinched, realizing it was all too obvious that Bobby was afraid Dean might…off himself. In the end…that was really what he'd done.

That was why he was here to stop it.

Bobby straightened. "I gotta admit I could use your help."

Dean huffed.

"Something big is goin' down—end of the world big."

"Well then let it end!" Dean shouted back. Sam cringed and choked back a sob. Oh god, who was he kidding? How could he do this? How could he leave Dean alone?

"You don't mean that," Bobby said, stunned.

Dean stood up so quickly the chair he'd been in was knocked on it's back. "You don't think so? Huh? You don't think I've given enough? You don't think I've paid enough?" he asked, nodding to the open door. His eyes wandered for a moment, as if wondering if Sam could hear him.

Sam heard him, and had to clamp a hand over his mouth and back against the wall to keep from losing it. Somehow he was sure that if he did, he would become visible again whether he wanted to or not. Somehow he knew emotion had something to do with it. He bent over his knees, his chest aching for holding back the sobs.

"I'm done with it," Dean said finally. "All of it. If you know what's good for ya you'll turn around and get the hell outta here."

Bobby stared at his brother for a moment, eyes wet. When he didn't move Dean shoved him once. "Go!" Bobby stumbled back but never took his eyes from Dean. Sam had looked up when he heard the shout, and as he blinked back tears and wrapped his arms tightly around himself, he watched them stare at each other until Dean looked away.

"M sorry…I'm sorry. Please just go…"

Dean turned away and leaned on the back of one of the chairs. It took a moment, but Bobby finally turned for the door.

"You know where I'll be," he muttered.

Sam felt himself switching again, felt his emotions dragging him into the visible realm—knew it because he wanted to fix this. He barely held onto the invisibility until Bobby was out the door and driving away, and then suddenly he knew he could be seen. He didn't need Dean to turn around and confirm it this time. He knew.

He stayed where he was, against the back wall, still half bent over but successful in holding back the tears. "Dean, what the hell was that?" he croaked.

Dean only looked up from where he leaned on the chair long enough to register that Sam was there, and he didn't seem surprised to see him this time. "It was the truth."

"It can't be. You can't just give up…"

"If you're dead, why the hell should the world matter to me?"

"Dean—"

"No, Sam; hear me out." He shoved the chair away and faced him, hands balled into fists. "Ever since the fire I have had one job, Sam. One. I'm supposed to take care of _you_. I screwed that up, and you want me to just be okay with that? You want me to just _let you go_?" he spat.

Sam swallowed. "You have to."

"Why? Why do I have to?"

"The deal, it…it screwed a lot of things up—things that happened because of it."

"I don't guess you can tell me any more about that either, huh?"

"No. God, trust me when I tell you that you don't _want_ me to explain. Please. Please understand…"

Dean's eyes filled again, and for a moment Sam thought he might listen. Then he shook his head slowly. "No, Sammy. This is my mess. I have to fix it."

"Dean…?"

"I'm sorry." Before he could react, Dean had the gun again.

"Wait—!" Sam heard the sound of the shot as he pushed off from the wall, felt the searing pain as the rock salt tore through him.

Then there was nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

It's not over! There's at least one more chapter coming, just so you know. I'll try to hurry on it, but I gotta know what ya'll think of this chapter. ;) So let me know! Thanks so much. Enjoy! Have a good afternoon. :) And HAPPY SHOW WEEK! Finally, lol. Friggin' break....

Chapter 5

By the time the pain faded and Sam pulled himself together, he could hear the Impala pulling away from the ghost town.

"No, no, no…!"

Still suffering from the effects of the rock salt, he wasn't sure he could focus enough to materialize inside a moving vehicle if he jumped. Instead he scanned the area, jumping back and forth in a desperate attempt to find the right crossroads. There was nothing in the area but dirt roads until the highway. Dean could be anywhere.

Finally Sam materialized by an old street sign, mere feet from the parked Impala. Dean was slamming the trunk closed, a small wooden box in his hands. He strode purposefully toward the center of the crossroads, and the sudden fear that ripped through Sam's gut jolted him into the visible realm immediately. Before he was sure just what he was doing he'd run up behind Dean and thrown his arms around his shoulders from behind, jerking him back.

"Dean, stop!"

His brother stumbled back, and Sam took the opportunity to swipe the box from his hands, scattering its contents across the gravel. Only, it wasn't until then that he realized Dean still had the rifle in his hands. Dean found his footing again and swung the gun up into both hands, aiming for the threat to his plan.

"Back off, Sam!"

He held up both hands, not really wanting to be shot again. "This is crazy."

"How is saving your ass crazy?" Dean glared.

"Did you hear anything I had to say back there? This isn't just about us, Dean. If you do this, the whole world is screwed."

"Really, how is that?"

"I can't tell you," Sam grated.

"Figures."

He swallowed. "Why don't you trust me?"

"You know I trust you, Sam. I just don't care right now."

Sam stared at him incredulously. "Are you really that selfish?"

"What if I am!" Dean shouted.

"You're going to let the world go to hell because you can't handle what's going on right now? You would screw the entire planet over because you don't think you're strong enough to go on by yourself? You're not even alone, Dean! There's Bobby, and Ellen, and—"

He snorted. "Ellen's probably dead, too."

"No, she's not. Trust me on that, too."

"Oh, finally something you can actually tell me, huh?"

Sam shrugged. "Telling you that won't hurt anything. As far as that goes…" He hesitated, and finally decided that any minor damage to the time stream was worth keeping Dean from making this deal. "Dean, dad's okay—or he will be. He'll get out."

Dean stared at him in confusion, taken off guard enough to lower the gun. "Out of hell?"

"Soon. Don't worry; you'll know. In my future he's been…wherever else there is, for a while. He's fine." That was all he could say, but it was enough. Dean wasn't paying attention, and Sam disappeared long enough to reappear at Dean's side, pull the rifle from his hands, and throw it across the road.

Dean didn't have time to react; he only glared at Sam once it was done.

"Sorry…but maybe now we can talk a little more easily."

"Bitch," he growled.

"Jerk."

Sam's reply seemed to throw Dean off again, and he frowned. It was obvious he hadn't expected the answer even though it was the one that usually followed. He looked at Sam a little more softly, and swallowed.

"Sam, I can't. I can't let you go," he hissed quietly.

"If you don't think you can do it now, how do think that me is going feel a year from now when you die?" Sam shot back, pointing behind them in the general direction of the town. "If you can't do it, how do you expect me to?"

"Well you did, didn't you? I'm dead where you come from, aren't I?" Dean demanded.

Well, it was more complicated than that of course, but, "Yes," Sam swallowed.

"Yeah, and you seem fine."

"Maybe now—but I wasn't. Not for a while," he admitted, blinking back tears. "I wasn't fine. After you died, I lost it. I shut down. I drank, and stayed drunk, and you know that's not me. I drove from crossroads to crossroads trying to find a demon that would let me make some kind of deal to get you out of hell, even if it was only to trade places with you. When none of them took the offer I _tried_ to get myself killed working jobs." It had really been going after Lilith, but this Dean wouldn't know that name yet.

Dean blinked at him in surprise, and his eyes weren't dry anymore. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? How the _hell_ is that supposed to make me _want _to give you up?"

"It's supposed to make you think, Dean. It's supposed to make you wonder if you want that to happen. It's supposed to tell you that I _know_ it won't be easy. I'm not telling you that you have let me go any more lightly than I know you're taking it."

Dean's jaw worked, and he turned away for a moment before spinning back. "How could you do that! How could be that stupid, acting like that? I thought you were better than that!"

"It wasn't just that you were dead, Dean! It was that you were in hell! That's what made it worse. It was that you were in hell, and that it was because of me. I felt guilty. I've felt guilty since the day I knew for sure what you'd done—why I was alive. It doesn't matter if I know intellectually that it's not true. I still _feel _like it's my fault you went to hell."

Dean turned away again, and Sam pressed on past the painful admission. "If you let me go now, none of that has to happen. No one has to be stuck in hell. It won't be for you like it was for me."

Dean was silent for a long moment, his back still turned. "You said you still feel guilty. That means you understand the human capacity for that—feeling guilt for something. You have to know that if I don't save you, I'll always feel guilty for letting you die," he said quietly.

"If I could stop that, I would," Sam sobbed helplessly. "You have to believe that I hate that, too. I don't want to hurt you Dean, but this is the only way."

"Only way to what?"

"To stop the apocalypse. Look, I know that sounds crazy, but…as many demons as we've dealt with, is it really all that out there?"

Dean sighed and turned back to him, finally. "Bobby did say something big was coming—end of the world big."

Sam nodded. "He was right."

His brother fell silent again. "So…what would me making a deal have to do with that?" he asked eventually.

"You don't want to know."

"Or you can't tell me?"

"That too."

Dean growled in frustration. "What _can_ you tell me?"

He swallowed back the mass of tears in his throat that hadn't dissolved yet. "I can tell you that in the future where you did this…" He trailed off, shook his head…couldn't stop the tears from seeping out. "I watched a hell hound tear you to shreds while I was pinned to a wall by a demon," he choked.

Dean grimaced.

Then, editing out the part where he'd been brought back to life…

"Bobby and I had to bury you. Now I have to live with the fact that you're being tortured in hell every _second_ I waste here trying to convince you to fix it. Is that really the way you want things to be?"

"Sammy, I—" Dean's jaw clenched as he looked off, avoiding Sam's eyes. "No…"

Sam let out a pent-up breath. "Good."

Dean groaned and crouched in the gravel, falling back on his rear after a moment and burying his face in folded arms atop spread knees. Sam knelt silently beside him. It might have been several minutes before Dean spoke again, pulling his head out of his arms but still staring at the ground.

"So…save the world, or save you and lose the world and you with it anyway, huh?" He snorted. "It should be easy." He fell silent for another moment, then grimaced again. "And…you're sure this is only way?"

"I'm sorry," Sam repeated quietly.

Dean nodded reluctantly in understanding, and let his head drop back into his arms. He stayed that way much longer this time, shoulders tight and unmoving, and Sam didn't know what to do but stay there with him. When he finally looked up again the tears hadn't escaped his eyes, but he looked as haggard as if he'd been crying for days.

"Okay," he said gruffly, barely audible. "Okay…"

Sam nodded silently and swallowed. He didn't trust himself to say anything, so he stood and offered a hand he hoped he could help with. When Dean reached up and gripped it, not looking at him, it remained solid, and Sam pulled his brother to his feet and steered him back toward the Impala.

Dean detoured to pick up the fake ID in the road and the gun in the grass, but he left the wooden box and the rest of its contents scattered in the gravel as he tossed what he'd picked up into the back seat and climbed in behind the wheel. Sam stood uncertainly outside the car, wondering if it was over. When nothing happened, he realized Dean was looking at him expectantly, waiting.

Sam sighed and slid into the passenger's side. His throat clogged again when he realized it would be the last time. He exchanged a pained glance with his brother, who seemed to understand that too.

Dean pulled up right before the house this time, when they made it back, but even after he'd shut off the engine he hesitated before getting out.

"What's up?" Sam asked gently, after a moment.

His brother gripped the steering wheel tightly and really looked at him. This time, he didn't stop the tears when they fell, even though he tried to smile.

"I'm pretending this is any other hunt. I'm pretending that's really you sitting there one more time—pretending I don't have to go in there and say goodbye to you."

Sam nodded slowly, understanding, and then a sudden feeling—maybe a voice in his ear—told him what he had to say next. "I can't come with you. I can't get out of the car," he told him quietly.

Dean almost laughed sadly. "Makes sense, I guess."

"The me in there is the one you have to say goodbye to."

"I know…" He stared out the windshield. "Sam…you know I tried to protect you…"

"I know," Sam answered, cursing his voice when it broke. He nodded toward the house. "I knew then."

Dean swallowed. "Which one matters? What are we gonna remember on the other side?"

"I don't know."

"At least you didn't say _I can't tell you_…"

Sam laughed once, and choked on it, and heard something similar from Dean.

"So…later, right? Somewhere…"

"Yeah…somewhere, somehow, anyway…"

"Right." Dean's hand closed on the door handle, and he gave Sam a smile through the tears—but it was too much like the one he'd given before the hell hounds had come for it to give Sam any comfort.

Dean didn't need to know that, so he smiled back tightly, feeling himself fading already. His brother climbed out of the Impala and went inside without looking back, and the world around Sam faded away completely.

But instead of heaven, or some such place…the fade led back to the hotel room.

* * *

Dean didn't look back until the door was closed behind him, and when he glanced out the window the Impala was empty. Swallowing hard, he slowly made his way back to the room where he'd spent much of the last two days.

Sam's body was still there, as silent and peaceful as it had been an hour before…but this time it hurt more. Somehow it hurt so much more, but it hurt less at the same time.

He sank onto the edge of the bed and pulled his brother up into his arms one last time as the knot in his chest unraveled and the tears came in full force.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy," he gasped when he could speak again. "You know I would fix this if I could." The sobs faded in his chest and he sat silently for a long moment, stroking Sam's stringy hair.

"I'm sorry," he whispered one more time. Dean squeezed tight once more, and gently laid him down again.

Then he let go.

The voice on the other end of the line was tired and wary when he got an answer to his call, and Dean was barely able to choke out his request before he snapped the cell phone shut again.

"Bobby…please come back. I can't bury Sam by myself."


	6. Chapter 6

Still not the end! It ran long, so there _will_ be another chapter, which is good for ya'll I suppose. ;) So here ya go! I hope you love it. :) Let me know! Thanks!

And HAPPY SHOW DAY! 40 minutes to "Jump the Shark!" SQUEE!

Chapter 6

Sam was still sitting when he blinked, and he was in the hotel room again. He was sitting on his bed, and his chest tightened when he saw Dean's body on the other. _What...?_

"Do not worry; you did succeed."

"Cas?" Sam glanced up to see the angel standing beside him, looking at Dean. "Then…what are we doing here?" he asked, throat still thick. "Why is any of this still here at all?"

"It isn't," Castiel answered without looking at him. "This is not your motel room. What you are seeing now was created outside of time."

He frowned in confusion. "What?"

"You succeeded. The timeline was changed, and the first seal was never broken. Lilith is still a threat and must be stopped before she can find someone else, but she cannot yet break any other seals. This gives us time to take her down."

"Good…good. What does that have to do with this?" he asked, motioning around them.

Cas sighed and finally looked down at him. "You did much for us; you sacrificed much. I did not want you to go without saying goodbye to your brother—the brother you know now," he said, nodding to the other bed. "Nor did I want this Dean to be unable to see you again…even if he will not remember."

Sam's head ducked as he swallowed. "So…this is really it then. I have to leave."

"I am afraid that cannot be changed. For this world to be saved, things must remain as you have made them."

"Yeah…I kind of figured that." He blinked back tears and looked across the space at Dean. "Does he already know what we did?"

Castiel crossed to Dean's limp form, glanced down at the body, and then back at Sam. "Do you wish him to know when I wake him? Or would you rather tell him yourself?"

Sam took a deep breath and stood shakily. "No…I'll tell him."

The angel nodded once, and reached down to briefly press the tips of two fingers to his brother's forehead. When he pulled them away Dean gasped. His eyes opened quickly as he jerked halfway up and landed back on his elbows, looking around in bewilderment.

"Cas?" He squinted at his brother, who was a little farther away. "Sam?"

The lump in his throat Sam had been trying to fight away came back hopelessly, sticking in his throat when he tried to reply. "Hey, Dean."

"Hey…" Dean looked back to Castiel. "What the hell is going on?" He sat up the rest of the way and rubbed his neck, grimacing.

Castiel glanced back at Sam, who nodded. "Thanks, Cas," he said quietly. The angel nodded solemnly in return and was gone an instant later.

"Thanks? Thanks for what?"

Sam ignored the question at first. He couldn't stop himself from launching forward, resting a knee on the bed to get low enough, and throwing his arms tightly around his brother. Dean still seemed confused, but he reached up awkwardly to uneasily return the embrace.

"Thanks for what?" Dean repeated, when he finally let go.

Sam let out a long breath and sat next to his brother. "You were dead. Lilith killed you again…snapped your neck," he said after a moment, staring at the ground.

"Wha—what? What are you talking about?" When Sam didn't answer Dean twisted on the bed, staring at his brother. "Wait…" His eyes wandered, as if searching for something. "I remember…bursting in here with Chuck, and I think Lilith was about to run for it, but then she looked at me, and—"

Sam heard his brother swear, and felt Dean stand up swiftly before he felt the hands clamp around his upper arms. "Sam? Tell me what happened," he demanded, just barely shaking him. There was another pause, and then Dean's voice came again, filled with horror. "What did you do?"

Sam only glanced up at his brother's searching eyes for a moment before shaking the hands away, suddenly irritated. "Relax. Do you think Castiel would have been the one hanging around when you woke up if I'd made a deal?"

That silenced Dean for a moment, and he straightened and took a step back, but eventually he came back with the question again. "Then what happened?"

"I…" He trailed off immediately, suddenly afraid to tell Dean anything at all. Saying it would make it true.

Telling Dean what he'd done would make it true, and it would mean leaving.

"Sam?" Dean said more urgently.

His elbows rested on his knees already, and his eyes slipped shut as his head dropped into his hands.

"Sam, what did you do?"

His chest felt tight again, and he was afraid to answer for fear of how he would sound. But he had to answer; he couldn't leave Dean out to dry much longer.

"It was the only way…" he whispered.

"What was the only way? _What did you do_!" Dean demanded angrily.

"Castiel…" The name was enough to shut Dean up, and give Sam the time to take a deep breath and steady himself as he let his hands fall from his face and hang over his knees.

"What about him?" Dean asked anxiously.

Sam took a deep breath and let it out, still refusing to look up. "He…took me back—to the day I died. I stopped you from making the deal."

Stunned silence. Sam winced and looked up tentatively when he heard his brother drop onto the edge of the other bed.

"But…What? Why the hell would you do _that_?"

"Because apparently the world is screwed without you."

"What?" Dean snapped.

"Cas told me about the first seal, Dean," he answered softly.

His brother's face clouded immediately. "He told you about the—" Dean growled and pushed himself to his feet again, pacing away from the beds and lacing his fingers tightly behind his head. After a moment he spun, scowling. "I never wanted you to know about that."

"I know…but he didn't have a choice. He had to explain why we had to change what we did."

"Yeah? Why _did_ you have to change what you did?" He paused. "You were serious? You changed it? You stopped the deal?"

Sam nodded uneasily and pulled himself to his feet. "I didn't have a choice, Dean. Cas said they wouldn't be able to reach you in hell again, and I couldn't live knowing you were down there again. Then, the fate of the world is important too…"

Dean snorted. "You believed that crap? You think I'm supposed to save-the-world?"

Sam held out his arms in a shrug. "Well it's not me, Dean. For a long time, I thought it _was_ up to me. I thought I had to kill Lilith. I _tried_, and it didn't work. That has to mean something."

"Like what? I'm some savior? Seriously, dude; you're smarter than that."

His hands fell back to his sides. "Well what else is there to believe in, Dean? And maybe it's not so drastic as that—I don't know how it's all going to go down now—but somehow, at least in the timeline the way it used to be, you were supposed to be involved somehow. You had to be. With you dead, the world was as good as Lucifer's. Somehow that makes sense to me."

Dean glared. "So what? Now it's all different?"

"You never made the deal; you never went to hell. The first seal hasn't been broken yet, and there's more time to stop Lilith before she's even started."

"But without you. I'm supposed to do it alone."

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Not…alone. Bobby's not going anywhere, and I'm sure Castiel will still show up this time around—maybe Ruby."

"Oh joy."

"Dean…it was Castiel's idea—_his_ idea, not some superior. All I wanted was to get you out of hell somehow, and he said it was the only way."

"Yeah, well sometimes Cas can be an ass," Dean rumbled. "Kudos to him for thinking for himself, but really—the _only_ way?"

"Think about it Dean…you _know_ there wasn't any other way," Sam gulped.

Dean looked away, and when he glared back again his eyes were damp. "And what if I don't want this?"

"It's already done."

"Then undo it!" he shouted.

"Dean, the—"

"The world can go screw itself. It's always been screwed to hell anyway."

Sam blinked back tears of his own. "You don't really mean that. I know you don't. You said it before, and I know you don't mean it. You wouldn't sacrifice the world just for me—yourself, but not the world."

Dean's jaw clenched. "It's not _just you_. You're my brother. I've died for you before, and I'd do it again." His hands balled into fists at his sides. "So who the hell gave you permission to throw away everything I've done and just leave!"

Sam felt his heart cracking under his brother's pained, vulnerable stare. "I'm sorry," he choked. "I just couldn't leave you down there…" He swallowed hard and managed to speak more clearly for a moment. "I'm not throwing anything away, I…I'm glad for the extra time we had."

"Time that we'll lose, right?" Dean snarled. "If the timeline or whatever's been changed, then nothing after you died ever happened. You weren't there. The time we've had since then is _gone_."

"I know," he whispered.

"Then what was everything I did for? What was the point?"

"You couldn't have known Lilith's plans; it's not your fault…"

"That doesn't change anything!"

Sam sobbed, and then there was a hand on his shoulder. He and Dean looked at the same time, and Castiel was there.

"It is not all lost," the angel told them gently.

Dean swallowed and stared at the angel in confusion. "What?"

"What?" Sam echoed weakly.

Castiel focused on Dean. "The physical human mind could not handle duel memories, so you will only remember the altered timeline while you are alive—you are correct in that. However…Sam is no longer alive. His memories will remain unchanged, and yours can be returned to you when you cross to the other side."

Dean looked vaguely interested. "You mean…when I die?"

"Yes. If you choose, the original twenty-one months of memories—when your brother was alive—could be restored then, without losing the memories that will now replace them in the new timeline."

"Why do you ask if I choose?" Dean hesitated. "Is it…because of hell?"

Cas shook his head immediately. "Once you leave this constructed reality—this room—you will never remember hell again. That much of your burden has been forever taken from you. However, if you choose to have those memories with your brother back, you will remember what was said here on Earth. You will know about the seal, and what happened there. You will not _remember_, but you will know."

Knowing he wouldn't lose his own memories was more relief than Sam could have asked for, and for Dean to remember one day would have been even better, but…

"Dean, you don't have to say yes. I would understand, if you don't want to remember anything about hell at all…" he said slowly.

Dean gave him a strange look. "As long as I don't have to remember hell itself, why would I want to lose the rest of the past couple of years?"

He shrugged silently.

"Look, Sam, I know we've had it rough—I know we haven't agreed on a lot recently, but…I wouldn't want to lose the time. Even if I couldn't have the memories back until I got wherever I'm going, I would want them."

Sam grimaced. "Are you sure?"

"Damn right I'm sure, but—" Dean looked at Castiel quickly. "Why do we have to do this at all? Come on, Cas; there has to be another way…"

The angel shook his head, looking a little forlorn. "I am sorry. It is the only way, and it is done."

"You can't just—I don't know—reset it? Couldn't you find a way to do whatever I was supposed to do without me? Save the world but not change anything?"

"You would be in hell," Castiel reminded him.

Dean jaw clenched. "What if that didn't matter?"

"Dean!"

"'For what should a man profit if he gain the whole world but lose his soul?'" the angel quoted calmly.

"What?"

Slow understanding dawned, and Sam spoke up after a moment of silence. "It's from the Bible."

"Well what the hell's it mean?"

"It means it does matter," he answered quietly. "It's our souls that matter. This is all just as much about that as anything else."

Dean stared at him, seeming to catch some of his meaning. "Wait…Does this have something to do with whatever you've been doing?" he questioned suspiciously.

Sam looked from his brother to the angel, considering. Well…he was dead anyway…and he'd always known Dean would find out somehow. "Dean, I…" His throat closed around the painful fact—the one he was suddenly more ashamed of than ever. "You wanted to know how I was getting stronger?" he all but whispered.

"Yeah, that would be nice."

He huffed out a heavy breath and avoided Dean's eyes. "Ruby. It…was her blood—demon blood—the same thing that gave me the powers in the first place. All I needed was more of it to be stronger."

His eyes closed without him having to tell them to, because he knew what was coming next. He wasn't surprised at all by the barrage of curses that flew from Dean's mouth, or that it was Castiel who calmed him. When Sam opened his eyes both his brother and the angel were staring at him, waiting for further explanation, he supposed—Dean angrily, and Cas looked…concerned.

At least the angel was there. Sam was sure he would have been slammed into a wall by now if he and Dean were alone.

"I didn't want to; I thought it was the only way. I thought I had to kill Lilith…"

"Well you could have let me in on that little fact," Dean snapped. "_I_ could have told you there was no way that was the only option."

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd react like _this_!"

"Like what?" Dean growled. "You let me think you're just experimenting with your powers again, and it turns out you've been sucking _demon blood _the whole time?? How the hell else am I _supposed_ to react to that! Damnit, Sam!"

He flinched. "Not the whole time; when I told you I was going to stop everything, I did."

"Obviously not for good."

"I told you; I only started again because I thought I didn't have a choice."

"Damnit, Sam…" he repeated, in more of a moan this time.

Sam gulped again. "That…it's another reason we need this."

"Cas?" Dean asked desperately.

The angel nodded slowly. "I am afraid he is right. In that light, there is much possibility that his soul was in danger."

Dean scowled. "And this fixes that, too?"

"Sam has sacrificed his life to save your soul and provide a way to defeat Lilith. His soul has been more than redeemed."

Dean scrubbed a hand anxiously over his face. "God…" He focused on Sam, and the glare had faded to a stricken expression that shone through unshed tears.

"I'm sorry…" Sam whispered.

His brother blinked the tears back furiously, fixating on the ceiling for a moment. Sam glanced at Castiel. "Could we have a minute…?"

Cas nodded once, and were there tears in his eyes, too? "I will go," he said quietly, and then nodded across the room at the motel room door. "When you are ready…go through." Sam nodded in understanding, and the angel exchanged a final glance with Dean before glancing once more at Sam.

"I thank you, for what you have done."

Sam forced a smile that he was sure didn't reach his eyes.

"Hey…I'll see you around too, right?"

Castiel cocked his head as if to say _perhaps_, and then he was gone again.

Silence fell for several long minutes. Dean seemed to be fighting for control, still, and Sam couldn't think of anything to say at first.

"So…do you understand? Do you understand why it has to be this way?"

There was no answer.

Sam took a trembling breath. "I don't know for sure what would have happened, but if Cas and I hadn't done this, we…we could have lost _everything_—you would still be in hell, the world would have fallen…and I probably would have ended up in hell right beside you."

Dean choked on that, and finally looked at him again, eyes still bright and damp. "Then this is goodbye?"

"Just…for now, I guess. You heard Cas—we'll see each other on the other side. We'll even remember the last twenty-one months."

"Minus hell," Dean echoed dully. "Yeah. I guess that's better than nothing." He didn't sound like he believed it. At least he seemed to understand now that this wasn't going to change—though it hurt to see the defeat on his face.

"Dean…"

His brother moved before he could focus, and then Sam _was_ against a wall, with his ears ringing from the impact.

"How could you just go and do that! Without my input at all!"

"You were _dead_! And I don't remember _you_ asking how _I _felt before you went and sold your soul the first time around!" Sam glared.

Dean shook him with the fists curled into the front of his shirt. "Shut up! Shut up, damnit! You should have _found_ a way to talk to me first!"

"Dean—" he choked.

"You should have talked to Cas; something! How could just _do_ that?" His fists pressed into Sam's chest, pounded, demanding answers—why this had to happen, why everything had to change so suddenly.

"How could you!" Dean all but screamed.

Something in Sam pulled free, and he shouted back with just as much intensity, seizing his brother's wrists and holding his arms still against Dean's struggles.

"Because I love you! You're my brother, Dean; I wasn't going to leave you in hell!" The adrenaline fell away just as quickly as it had come, and he let go of his brother. "I love you," he repeated more quietly, looking away.

Silence reigned again at first, and then he heard Dean suck in a harsh breath. "Sammy…you know I love you. That's…it's why I made the deal in the first place," he grated out through what must have been a lump in the throat just as sizable as the one in Sam's. "That's why I did it…because I love you…so I wouldn't have to do this—" his voice broke. "So I wouldn't have to say goodbye to you."

When Sam looked up, Dean's eyes were closed and his shoulders shaking.

"I didn't want to have to say goodbye to you…" he whispered again, trailing off into quiet tears.

Sam's eyes widened at the unexpected sight as he caught his brother, when Dean's legs seemed to just give out. He gently lowered them both to their knees, holding his brother tightly.

"God, Dean…" he cried softly. He didn't know if Dean heard him; he was sobbing into Sam's shoulder, holding on just as firmly in return, and suddenly the whole thing seemed too surreal to believe.

This couldn't be it, could it? This couldn't be the end…even just for this life…

Sam wanted to be strong; if Dean could be this upset…he wanted to be here for him. But…it didn't exactly work out that way, or not the way he wanted. Instead he was crying into Dean's neck in moments.

And somehow, he realized that it was all right.

Maybe…maybe if crying together was the one thing they had never really done, maybe it was what they needed now.


	7. Chapter 7

Okay, _this_ is the end--of this story. However, I do already have an idea for a sequal. Let me know if ya'll are interested. :) Anyway, I hope you like this; please do let me know what you think! :) Thanks so much for all the reviews and support ya'll!

And yes, I'm getting back to work on Don't Let Go right now. I just wanted to finish this, and I needed to do some research for the next chapter of DLG anyway--which I can't do until I get ahold of the person I need to talk to! *sigh* But either way, I'll have a chapter up soon. I'll be gone all weekend, so I promise I'll at least post some kind of chapter before I leave. :)

Chapter 7

When the blinding haze of grief settled to a dull ache, Dean's sobs subsided. He dropped back on his heels, holding onto Sam's arm with one hand while he scrubbed the tears from his face with the other. His chest shuddered with aftershocks and made his breath uneven, and he heard the same sounds coming from his brother.

"God, that was embarrassing," he muttered.

He heard Sam laugh weakly, and bite off another sob.

"Back from the dead for the second time, but you're still you," he said. "I guess that should be encouraging."

Dean smirked a little at that. "I guess." He had to fight for the words he said next; his mind didn't want them. He didn't want to process the fact that this was goodbye. "So…you just…have to go through the door?" he asked, nodding back toward it but not looking.

He saw Sam's mouth press into a thin line as he dried his own face, and saw _him_ look, over Dean's shoulder. "Yeah," he answered shortly.

"Then what?" Dean asked quietly.

"I guess you go back to the real world."

"Like…where I'd be now if you hadn't come back?"

Sam shrugged. "Yeah—where you're supposed to be now, in the new timeline."

Dean snorted. "If I hear the word _timeline_ one more time I swear I will throw up." Sam laughed again, and it was a sad laugh but this time it lasted a little longer…and it was the sweetest thing he'd heard since he'd woken up.

"Sammy…"

"You don't hate me, do you?" he asked suddenly.

Dean frowned. "What?"

Sam looked away. "The whole…thing with Ruby, what I didn't tell you…about the demon blood…" He grimaced. "Do you hate me for that?"

He stared. "I…no. God, Sam, no. I mean, I'm _pissed_, but…you only did what you thought you had to do. Granted, you could have shared a little more—at which time I would have promptly kicked your ass and made sure you stopped for good, but…" He shook his head. "I don't hate you."

His brother nodded slowly in understanding, eyes damp again. Sam slid off his knees and leaned back into the wall heavily. "I just…I hate to think where it could have gone." He looked up, a haunted look on his face. "It scared me, Dean. It scared the hell out of me."

Sam let out a breath and held his arms away from his body, looking down at them as if they were foreign to him. "I can't feel it anymore. Maybe it's because I'm dead, and I don't have blood, or that the timeline changed and the extra demon blood was never there..." He took a deep breath. "I just know that it feels good, not being able to feel it. I've never felt more relieved."

Dean took slow breaths, struggling not to lose it. He understood why all of this had to be. He accepted it. He didn't have a choice…but that didn't mean he liked it.

And Sam…god, he'd been worried about Sam, about the way he'd been acting, but if he'd had any idea just how much he'd been going through…

"I'm sorry."

Sam looked up. "What?"

"I'm sorry I didn't figure it out; I'm sorry I couldn't help, or stop it, or…something."

"It's not your fault. I'm not even sure it's so much Ruby's fault. Maybe she really does only have good intentions, or maybe not, but…it was my fault for letting it happen." He knocked his head back into the wall once, eyes closed. "I let myself get addicted.

Dean grimaced at the word. "You didn't know. You were just trying to save people, right?"

"And take revenge on Lilith," Sam scowled.

He sighed. "It doesn't matter. It's over."

"Yeah…"

Dean let the silence linger long enough to gather the strength to ask the next question. "What about you? What happens to _you_ when you go through?"

Sam shrugged. "I find out just how real heaven is?"

His jaw tightened. "It better be good. If either of us deserves that, it's you."

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Selling yourself short," Sam scolded. "It's going to be up to you now to take Lilith out, and you can't keep doing that."

"Not even with good reason?" Dean grumbled.

"There _is_ no good reason," Sam answered immediately. "And there certainly won't be once this whole thing resets." Dean was grateful he'd avoided the word _timeline_. He really might have hurled if he'd heard that word again.

Dean sighed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that when I walk through that door and you end up wherever you end up…you'll have no memory of hell. I know it'll be hard at first, with me gone, but you can still start fresh." Sam stood up and offered a hand, and Dean reluctantly took it. "You'll be fine," Sam finished as he pulled his brother to his feet.

"I guess."

"You will be." He shook his head, and looked off. "I wanted to believe, sometimes, that I was as strong as you. I thought I was. The truth is…after Jessica, after you died, and especially recently…I let my want for revenge get in the way, and it only got worse over the years. I lost perspective. You've always had more of that than I have, and it's what makes you stronger."

Sam looked him in the eyes. "So I know you'll be fine."

Dean swallowed hard. _How can you say I'm that strong when I feel like I'll fall apart again if you walk through that door?_

But…Sam would be safe. Besides the benefits for the world, maybe…that was really the only good he could see in this. Sam would be safe. He would be safe, with mom and dad…right?

Keeping Sam safe was all he had ever wanted. He'd wanted to keep him close, too, but…if he could only have one thing or the other he supposed that, because he _did_ love his brother, he had to choose this. He had to accept this. He had to keep Sam safe.

There was nowhere safer than where Sam was going.

Dean only managed a grunt in response, and Sam's head ducked again.

"You know…for a long I was worried about doing this. I didn't want to leave you alone. I guess I just have to remember that you _won't _be alone."

Dean forced a smirk. "You're not going into some sappy I'll-always-be-with-you speech, are you?

"No," Sam chuckled. "I just…I meant Bobby, and Cas to some extent, and…who knows? Maybe you'll make new friends this time around."

"Don't count on it," he muttered, with a sneaking suspicion he knew where his brother was going with that.

"Hey, it's on you to carry on the family line now."

"Oh, _that's _where you're going with that?"

"Don't pretend you didn't know."

Dean huffed. "Who the hell would want this family to continue? We suck."

"Aww come on; we don't suck that bad."

"You know this conversation won't do any good, right? I won't remember it until I'm dead anyway."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, I know. I just felt like I should tell you, anyway. You really should try to be happy once I'm gone, Dean. You _do_ deserve it."

He snorted. "What if I'd be happy as a hermit?"

"You and I both know that's not true. I saw Lisa in your head, remember? Dean, you're thirty—"

"Had to remind me," he grimaced.

"You have plenty of life ahead of you. You should make the most of it."

Now it was Dean who sighed. "Look, Sam, even if I was going to remember this, I don't know if I could promise you anything."

Sam let out a breath. "I know. I just…I want you to be happy, Dean. I _know_ right now it seems like that won't ever be possible, but that's not true. As soon as Lilith's out of the picture…"

"Okay…okay. I hear you. I promise I hear you…but that's my sappy quota for today," he snarked. The sarcasm helped. It helped him pretend Sam wouldn't be gone in a few minutes.

"Whatever," Sam smirked. It faded as his eyes strayed to the door. "I should probably…"

Dean's throat tightened again. "Right."

Sam moved around him and crossed slowly to the door. He looked back as his hand closed over the knob, and let go again.

Dean's vision blurred with tears, and he knew what he had to say next. "It's okay, Sammy," he choked. He cleared his throat and tried again, more strongly this time. "It's okay."

Then Sam was heading back to him, and Dean found himself meeting his brother in the middle as they snatched each other into a crushing embrace.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" Sam all but cried.

"Of course I will—cliché bastard."

He heard Sam laugh, felt it against him, and squeezed tighter to memorize it. Maybe this memory would be lost for a time, but he was sure that would stay with him. It wasn't the Sam he'd been worried about since coming back from hell; it was the Sam he missed from the beginning.

Sam let go, and Dean was forced to o the same. His brother went back to the door, and this time he pulled it open.

Dean saw nothing but darkness on the other side.

"What the—it's all dark."

Then he realized that Sam didn't seem confused, and when his brother looked back at him it was with a question in his eyes as Dean moved to his shoulder.

"You don't see it?"

"See what?"

Sam looked out into the nothingness and smiled. "It's not dark, it's light, and…" He trailed off and gaped.

"What?"

"I can see them already…"

Dean had a good idea who he meant, but he had to be sure. "See who?"

"Dad…and Mom, and Ash, and Pastor Jim, and others..." He stopped again, and his eyes lit up in a way Dean hadn't seen in a long time. "Oh…"

Dean looked at him in wonder, wishing he could see what his brother was seeing. He supposed he would, someday. "What is it?"

"Jessica," he breathed. "Somehow, I almost forgot."

Dean grinned suddenly, hoping for a last moment of humor. "Nice. You won't be without your action up there."

Sam slapped a hand back into his chest—hard. "Shut up."

"Ow."

"Besides…somehow I don't think Heaven's like that."

"Where's the heaven in that?"

Sam looked back to glare at him for a moment, and then just rolled his eyes. His expression grew wistful, and he sighed a bit.

"Goodbye, Dean," he said quietly.

Dean nodded once, smiled, and somehow the words he'd never wanted to say came more easily than he'd ever thought they would have. "Bye, Sam."

Sam smiled back, rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment, and Dean gripped his arm until he let go. Then his little brother stepped through the door and disappeared. He couldn't see it, but he knew Sam had walked right into their parents' arms.

Dean stumbled back a few steps as the door closed on its own, and lowered himself to his knees, wondering when the crippling tears would take him again.

They didn't.

He wondered why, until he remembered that Sam was safe, and he was happy…and slowly he realized that was enough for now.

As Dean stared at the floor the carpet under his knees turned to grass, and the still air began to whisper around him, blowing a cool breeze over his skin as the dim motel room light brightened to sun. He looked up quickly, wondering what in hell was happening now…

* * *

Dean knelt in the grass out behind Bobby's place, wondering where the momentary confusion had come from. He shook it off as nothing and focused again on the simple wooden cross in front of him that marked his brother's grave.

"Cas says this is the day it all happened—or tonight was, or whatever—the night you came back from. He won't tell me how bad everything was the first time around; he won't tell me any more than you did…but he says you saved the world."

Dean smiled sadly. "Maybe after almost two years I still don't like this whole thing, but I gotta admit that sounds like you—saving the world. I never told you I was proud of you…I was too angry then."

His head ducked as the familiar ache gnawed at his chest, stealing his breath.

"I still miss you, Sammy," he whispered after a moment. "I guess I'm doing a lot better than I thought I would…guess you were right about that…but I miss you."

He swallowed hard. "I know we grew up together—god, who could forget all of that, the way we grew up—but we never really…you know…not until we went looking for Dad, and…two years wasn't enough with you," he choked out.

Dean paused again to catch his breath and swallow back the lump in his throat, wondering how after all this time it could still be so hard, and yet so much easier, too. Sometimes he still wanted to cry to just to think of Sam, but the time helped him look back and really see that his brother had been right…What would he have really gained by selling his soul? That made it easier. That and the time itself.

Sam had been right about Bobby, too. Bobby had been there for him through it all—letting go, burying his little brother…and after the ordeal with the devil's gate, killing the demon, seeing dad and realizing he was safe now…Bobby had been there to help him through the agonizing weeks after that, through coming to terms with the fact that Sam was gone.

Then the war had begun, and he hadn't had much time at all to feel sorry for himself.

Sam wouldn't have wanted that, anyway.

Dean let out a breath. "But…hey, on the bright side, we've got Lilith on the run. Thanks to you I guess we're gonna finish saving the world after all—Bobby and I, and Cas…and Ruby, maybe. She's still around, but that's just because I haven't figured out how to get rid of her yet," he smirked.

"Thanks a lot."

He grimaced, and glanced back briefly to see the thin blond leaning against a tree. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Ruby shrugged. "Paying my respects." She angled her head as she looked at the grave marker. "Sorry I never met him." There seemed to be some genuine sympathy there, but Dean glared anyway.

"Somehow I don't feel the same."

Her eyes rolled. "Whatever. I came because I've got some new dirt, if you must know."

"I'm a little busy," Dean growled.

Ruby threw up her hands and stepped away from the tree. "All right, all right. I'll go wait elsewhere." She headed back in the direction of the house, and Dean turned back to the wooden cross.

"Yeah; she's still a pain the ass."

"I heard that!" came the call from behind him.

Dean rolled his own eyes and waited until she was well out of earshot.

"Sometimes I wonder how I manage," he muttered.

He sighed and stood, brushing the dust from his knees. He hadn't brought anything with him; flowers were lame

"Anyway…we're heading out for now. I'm not sure what happens next, but from here on out it's all new anyway, isn't it?" Dean's fists clenched at his sides, and he heard his voice harden as he continued. "But we'll take Lilith down. I know you don't want that to be the last thing I do, but I don't care if it comes to that. I won't let what you did be for nothing."

Dean almost turned and stalked off then, but in mid-stride something brought him back to the graveside. He stood there for a full minute before he could say what was on the tip of his tongue.

"Thanks for everything, Sammy," he whispered. "I love you."

The voice he heard next was more welcome.

"That is what will help us win this war." Dean glanced over his shoulder and found Castiel there, but he didn't have a chance to say anything before the angel continued. "Your love for your brother and for the rest of your family is what makes you strong—not the sorrow or the anger."

Dean swallowed. He'd heard it before, but somehow he could believe it now.

He cleared his throat. "So what's up?"

"We have a lead on Lilith."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, Ruby said she had something new, too."

Cas raised an eyebrow at the mention of the demon, but he didn't comment. Dean turned back toward the house again. "Anyway, you can give me what you've got on the road. We're pulling out."

Castiel nodded once, and walked with him back to the house—really walked, which was something he didn't do often. Ruby was already there, leaning against the Impala, and Bobby was sitting on the front steps. He had no reason to be surprised to see the angel at Dean's side.

"Ready?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah."

Bobby nodded and stood, going for his own car.

"Leaving so soon?" Ruby asked.

"If you have anything to tell us on Lilith, get in," he confirmed gruffly. She shrugged and pulled open the door behind her—the passenger side door.

"Back seat, bitch. Nobody sits there; you know that," Dean called as he climbed in on his own side. He heard Ruby huff in annoyance, but she slammed the door she'd opened and slid in the back instead.

Castiel merely vanished from where he stood and reappeared beside her.

Ruby wrinkled her nose and settled as tightly against the door on her side as she could, but Cas sat calmly and launched into the new information he had as Dean started the Impala and followed Bobby out.

_Demon and an angel in the back seat…again_, he thought with mild amusement.

Somehow Dean was sure that, somewhere, Sam was laughing.


End file.
